Three Little Words
by Tycho
Summary: Three little words will forever change the lives of Severus Snape & Hermione Granger. WARNING: Character Death.
1. 1

Three Little Words.  
by Tycho  
PG-13

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns it all.

Summary: The lives of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger will be forever changed by three little words. 

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Like a petulant child, Severus Snape slammed the door to his chambers. With a crash it rebounded off the jam. Severus turned, glared at the offending assemblage of timber. He stalked back and slammed it close with another resounding bang. And then, because that simple ritual of violence felt so damn good, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time he wrenched it open again, he wrenched another word out of the raging fires of his mind.

"How." Slam.

"Could." Slam.

"I." Slam.

"Have." Slam.

"Been." Slam. 

"So." Slam. 

"Stupid!" Slam.

He went to pull it open again, but the lock had fouled against the jam, and now the door was wedged tightly within its frame. Severus grit his teeth and glared harder at it. Pulling his wand he pointed it at the door and muttered a single word. The resulting explosion of splinters knocked him off his feet and sent his wand flying to the other side of the room.

Severus stood and marched over to his desk, leaving his wand where it was. He picked up the inkwell and hefted it in his hand. It shattered against the opposing wall. He watched the ink run down the stone wall and made a decision. Magic might be more effective and efficient, but there was nothing like sheer physical violence when it came to satisfying rage.

The remaining contents of his desk followed the fate of his inkwell. Followed by his night stand, dresser, bed clothes and anything else he could lay his hands on. Thought ceased and there was only rage. At some point, the Bloody Baron flew in to see what the ruckus was. He quickly retreated after the madman within threw several objects through him and threatened to curse him into oblivion. As the ghost floated down the corridor, he could be heard to shout, "The Headmaster will hear of this!"

A quarter hour later, Severus no longer cared. He slumped in exhaustion amidst the destruction of everything he owned. The rage had finally dissipated, and only shame and regret remained. He fought desperately to keep the memories at bay, to think of anything but his humiliation that morning, but to no avail.

It was her face that dominated his thoughts. It filled his mind's eye with her beauty, showing him the myriad human emotions he'd seen there. Happiness, with her friends. Anger, at Draco Malfoy's bullying. Grief, at the death of one of her classmates. Worry, over Potter and Weasely. Surprise, at seeing him on her doorstep that very morning. Revulsion, when he'd opened his heart to her.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have believed in his wildest delusions that she could ever hold even the smallest amount of affection for him? He should have known it could never be. After all she was the epitome of the perfect witch. Beautiful, intelligent, talented, powerful. And he?

He was Snape. What more needed saying? He knew what every one said about him. The names. The jokes at his expense. Not even his colleagues sought his company. After nearly forty years of ridicule and ostracism, he no longer had any doubts. He had no friends, no family. Nobody needed him. Well that was just fine.

"I don't need you either!" He shouted and threw the nearest available object at the wall.

It missed, and hit his book case instead, the sole piece of furniture that had been spared from destruction. A single book fell from the shelves and landed on its side to lean against the tomes on the bottom shelf. The title leapt out at him, _Most Potente Potions._ He had received it from Her for Christmas last year.

Severus hung his head and whispered, "God, I'm so tired of being alone."

He spied his wand lying less than a foot away. A moment later it was within his grasp, and he was examining it from a most peculiar angle. Such a small thing, even smaller when one had it pointed at one's own eye, and yet capable of so much. He opened his mouth to whisper the curse, his final spell, but all that came out was "I love you. Why can't you love me?"

He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to say those two fatal words.

But they wouldn't come. He tried again, but still nothing. The wand dropped to the floor. Salt water fell to the floor. "I'm such a fucking coward." 

"I'm so very disappointed in you, Severus."

Severus' head shot up to look at the intruder, "Albus, I..." He stopped. In front of him was a conundrum. The Headmaster of Hogwart's had his wand out and pointed at Severus.

"I'm very sorry dear boy, but I need you to die." 

Then Severus knew nothing but darkness.


	2. 2

Later, Hermione would remember that it was a Friday.

She'd spent the week moving into her new flat, and had finally finished redecorating- the way she wanted it, not the way her parents had envisioned her living. She still shuddered at the thought of that horrid green shag pile carpet. It must have been installed during the seventies, and never re-laid. And the kitchen of course was simply unacceptable. Thankfully a few charms, a bit of transfiguration, and the place was now liveable. 

Thankfully, her visitors had been few so far, so virtually no one knew how the place had looked before. Her parents of course would be shocked at the transformation the next time they came over, but they were enduring all sorts of shocks lately, what with her being able to perform magic at home and discovering that wizards too had wars. They particularly objected to the fact that she had a role to play in this one. 

Harry, of course, had seen it in various stages while he'd helped her with the more physical side of redecorating. Eventually he'd gotten tired of moving furniture and had left, muttering something about 'women' and 'mercurial minds'. That had been Wednesday. On Thursday she'd done the grocery shopping. And Snape had dropped by.

Hermione tried her best not to think about _that _little disaster.

Now it was Friday. Her first day filled with absolutely nothing to do. By 8.30 Hermione was bored out of her skull. By 8.55, she was giving serious consideration to going against her parent's wishes and organising a 'wild party'. After all, one couldn't move out of home without having a party to celebrate, could one? Nothing extravagant, just a few friends. Invites to all her Gryff', Huff' and 'Claw classmates had been written and she was considering the Slyth's when the mail arrived.

The Owl looked at her oddly before flying away. Probably because it had never seen anyone dance with glee at the sight of it. Hermione felt justified, however, as not only was it her first official letter in her new flat, but there was two of them! Of course one of them was just her subscription to _The Daily Prophet,_ but still! 

The actual letter reminded her of the start of year Hogwart's letter, right down to the green ink used on the front. She turned it over to find the familiar red wax seal with the bold 'H' backed by the House crests. _'God,'_ she thought, _'This better not be Snape again. I swear if he's gone stalker on me he won't know what hit him!' _She hesitated a moment then broke the seal and withdrew the stiff parchment within. 

_Miss Granger,_

_I hope this missive finds you in good health._

_It is my regret to tell you of the death yesterday of Professor Snape. As he has no family, it falls to me seek out those who might have been close to him and would wish to farewell him. As both a fellow member of the Order, and a colleague of sorts (I think even Severus would have acknowledged you as such after your assistance in the Potions Lab this past year) I would hope you consider yourself such a person. _

_The funeral will be held this Sunday at 1pm at Hog's Grove._

_Yours_

_Albus Dumbledore._

Hermione was numb, her mind barely able to function. _'Dead? Snape is dead? How? Yesterday? Does that mean that . . . I was the last person to see him?'_

In an effort to escape that line of thought, she tore her eyes away from the letter and looked anywhere else but. Eventually they fell on the as yet unread newspaper that was threatening to escape from its binding. A moment later it did so, revealing the lead head line in bold black letters half an inch high: **Death at Hogwart's!**

Before she could look away, two words leaped out and tackled her fragile mind: _apparent suicide._


	3. 3

_'It should be raining.'_ This was the sole thought running through Hermione's head.

But nature was not conforming to her wishes. Instead of the drenching downpour she ached for, the sun was shining, filling the world with light and saturating it with colour. The cobalt blue sky was filled with birdsong, the grass was thick and luxurious beneath her feet, and morning dew still sparkled along delicate strands of spider's silk strung beneath the trees. An ancient line rose unbidden in her mind, _'In the midst of life, we are in death.' _

While a sunny day might be suitable for some occasions - weddings, barbecues, quidditch; the funeral service of Severus Snape was not one of them. In life, the man had been sombre at best, dark and moody the rest of the time. Surely the weather should reflect this? Instead of blue skies, there should be clouds, dark and forbidding. Instead of sunshine, shouldn't there be darkness? Shouldn't there be grief and remorse, rather than guilt? 

_'It should be raining.' _Hermione thought.

She refused to look anywhere but at the casket. Should one of the few 'mourners' catch her eye for even a moment, Hermione feared that her crime would be bared for all to see, and she would be condemned for it. Or worse - thanked. Hermione was reminded of a pair of questions she had once seen in one of those stupid internet quizzes. The first was _'How many people will attend your funeral?' _Nearly fifty people lined either side of the grave. It was like a bad parody of the final scene of _Romeo & Juliet_. Death Eaters on one side, the Order on the other. The other question in the quiz had been funny at the time. Hermione did not find it funny now: _'How many of those people will be there just to make sure you are dead?'_ Hermione wondered if she was the only one who recognised the irony of it. Opposing sides united in purpose. 

Oh, undoubtedly there would be some genuine mourners. Dumbledore, probably. McGonagall and Pomfrey, perhaps. Hagrid's snuffling behind her left no doubt as to his feelings. The Malfoys? Rumour had it they had once been very close to Snape. There had even been hope in the Order that Snape could save Draco from his father's inevitable fate. Of course, that was not very likely to happen now, was it? Hermione felt her guilt weigh even more heavily upon her, drowning her. Like ripples in a pond, her bigotry was spreading to affect, and perhaps destroy, more than just one life. How many more?

_'It should be raining.'_

_-------_

A/N I know it's short, but I'm just trying to clear my head so I can sleep. 4.30 am for crying out loud. Let me sleep! For those who are wanting to know more about D's motivations in chap 1, please be patient. You'll find out soon.


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